


Making Friends

by Ophiel



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Boys Kissing, Drinking, F/M, M/M, Wicked Grace, forfeit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-18
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-06-09 05:08:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6891436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ophiel/pseuds/Ophiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
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	Making Friends

It was late. If Cullen had a bed time, and he did, this would be so far beyond that. The Rest was empty, but of course, he had made the mistake of agreeing to a game of Wicked Grace with Varric. 

Then Isabela had come, and sat uncomfortably close to him. Isabela still smelled like the salty sea, like ale and rum and ocean. He wished she wore some pants. Cullen tried to edge away as politely as possible, keeping his cards close but she kept trying to tickle him with the feather in her hat. “Still shy, Cullen?” she purred, folding her arms, making her breasts move. “You wouldn’t entertain me back at the Hanged Man either.”

“Hardly shy,” Cullen said, moving down the bench. 

“Go easy, Rivaini,” Varric chuckled from across the table, his cards held idly as he enjoyed Cullen’s discomfort. “He’s a spoken-for man, now.”

“And I am also your commander, Isabela,” Cullen said firmly. “This is inappropriate.”

She cooed at that. “So… assertive. A lot of men under you. Perhaps a woman on top?”

“Maker’s breath!”

“He has a woman on top,” he heard. Cullen nearly dropped his cards. Evelyn giggled and dropped a kiss on his heated cheek. “Hello, honeybee,” she piped. Evelyn glanced at Isabela. “Don’t touch,” she smiled and the air chilled between them. “You know he’s mine.”

“Point taken,” Isabela grinned. She nodded at the door. “And your friend?”

Cullen saw the elf they had met in the Wilds. Abelas, he was called. His hair shaved at the sides and tied back in a ponytail, his tattoos of dark green on his face calling to mind the wild jungle he had spent the last few eons on. He stood taller than other elves, broader, better built. The loose tunic and breeches only seemed to highlight his shoulders. Abelas needed no furs. He hardly felt cold. He stood at the door, looking into the tavern with quiet eyes. 

“Abelas, join us!” Evelyn waved him over. Cullen noticed that she had taken to bringing the elf with her, helping him adjust to this new life. Abelas entered and Isabela, her eyes lingering on him, dealt them both into the game as Evelyn ordered some drinks from Flissa. 

A few hours passed. There were more drinks, more rounds and, Cullen realized, fewer coins in his purse. He sighed at his cards. This was going to be like playing with Josephine all over again. This time, he was not taking his clothes off. “I’m raising,” Isabela purred over a pile of her winnings, including Evelyn’s boots. She smiled at Evelyn, resting her chin on her hand as she held her cards. “Five gold.” Coins tinkled on the table. 

“Maker,” Cullen said in exasperation before he could stop himself. But his cards were good. 

Evelyn glared. “I don’t have five gold,” she said and looked at her cards. 

“Is this where you put down coin for me as well?” Abelas asked, his smooth voice resonating from behind the cards he primly held. 

“Yes and no,” Evelyn said. She had been paying his bets all night too, since Abelas had no coin of his own, nor any concept of coin, oddly enough. 

“Five gold, kitten,” Isabela purred again. “You have to put something of worth down. Or would you like to fold?” She looked at Cullen as Evelyn glowered. “Commander?”

Cullen flicked the corner of his cards. “Varric, spot me,” he said. 

“Sorry, Curly,” Varric said, putting his cards down. “I fold. You’re on your own. Trust me, sit this one out. Remember what I said about giving up while you’ve still got a head? And pants?”

“What?!”

“If you borrow more money from me, you might as well come back to Kirkwall and work off your debt for the next thirty years.”

Cullen grit his teeth. “Probably true.” But his cards were so good, and Isabela was bluffing, he was sure!

“Don’t you dare poach him, Varric!” Evelyn snapped. She shot Isabela a glare, her blue eyes like shards. “Fine. I’ll match your bet!” She set down her cards and started to wiggle under the table. 

“What are you doing?” Cullen croaked. 

“She is taking off her pants,” Abelas said, his voice matter of fact as he looked down at her movement under the table. 

“Evelyn, no!” Cullen grated. 

“Evelyn, yes! It’s fine, I have smalls on,” Evelyn said, balling up her pants and dumping them on the table. 

“That is correct,” Abelas said coolly, his eyes still lowered. “They are blue.”

“You’re not supposed to look!” Cullen snapped. 

“Oh.”

“Those are for three of us!” Evelyn picked up her cards. “You’re not taking his clothes of, Isabela!” She took a swig of her West Hills brandy, almost emptying the glass. 

“Maker, put your pants back on! I fold,” Cullen gave up. 

Evelyn slammed her cup down. “You are not folding! That’s an order!” 

“That doesn’t cover fifteen gold, kitten,” Isabela pointed out, looking at her nails. “You wear fine clothes, but you know this doesn’t cover fifteen. It touches seven at most, I’m being generous here.”

Evelyn moved to stand and retort, but Abelas reached out to hold her down by the shoulder. “I think the Commander might be vexed if you stood up wearing your smalls,” Abelas said evenly. “Perhaps it’s best to remain seated.”

“Thank you!” Cullen breathed in relief. 

“You need not place an item of value for me,” Abelas said. “Is it necessary to bluster till the revealing of cards?”

Varric chuckled. “Not necessary, but something about these two templars makes them want to bluff to the end. A gap in their training, maybe.”

“She’s the one bluffing,” Evelyn snapped. 

“Is it always requisite that an item or coin be placed?” Abelas asked. 

“Oh, are you talking about a forfeit?” Isabela asked, her eyes alight. 

“I think so.”

“I’ll accept. But you must promise to do as I ask.”

“If it is necessary to expedite the revealing of cards,” Abelas said. “I think the Inquisitor is cold.”

“Yes, I am,” Evelyn blushed. 

“She has goosebumps on her thighs,” Abelas added.

“Yes, I do.”

Cullen grit his teeth. “I appreciate your concern, Abelas, but for Andraste’s sake,  _ stop looking _ !” 

“I accept,” Isabela grinned broadly. 

“ _ Shathe shirallen. Tuelanen i’na. _ ”

Isabela chuckled. “And to you. Now, Cullen? Your bet?”

“This won’t end well,” Varric muttered. 

“If you or Evelyn loses, she walks out with no pants on,” Isabela said. Cullen frowned. His finger flicked his card corner. 

“Don’t you dare take your clothes off,” Evelyn snapped. 

“You need to stop talking like I do that as a first resort,” Cullen sighed. 

“You could bet a forfeit as well,” Isabela smiled. She held up her hands as Evelyn turned her flashing blue eyes to her. “Hear me out, Inquisitor. I know your concerns. I promise the forfeit will not be anything that involves him doing things to me, or me to him, or him to himself. Promise.” She chuckled then. “You might even like it.”

Evelyn’s gaze softened, tinged by curiosity.

“Cullen?” Isabela turned to him. 

Cullen glanced at Evelyn, then back at her, his suspicion clearly evident on his face. “Very well,” he said slowly. “A forfeit then.”

“Perfect. So! Would anyone like to raise? Isabela asked magnanimously. 

“No.” Evelyn put down her cards, face up. “Serpents! Three of a kind!” 

Cullen snorted and threw down his cards. “I don’t even beat that,” he grumbled. He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. “I hate this game.”

“Are four swords good?” asked Abelas, revealing his cards. 

“Not bad,” Isabela sighed. “But not as good as full dragons.” 

“I see. That’s unfortunate.”

“Unfortunate does not even begin to describe where this might go,” Cullen groaned. 

Evelyn glared at Isabela as she gathered the pool. “You’re very tiny,” Isabela noted as she held up Evelyn’s pants. “And so short.”

Evie’s cheeks puffed up in irritation. 

“Maybe we should call it a night,” Varric suggested. “Before anyone loses any more clothes, among other things.”

“Forfeit first,” Isabela said, neatly folding the pants and setting them with Evelyn’s boots. 

“You said--” Evelyn began. 

“I know what I said, kitten,” Isabela chuckled. 

Cullen braced himself as she went on. “I want them to kiss each other.”

“Kiss?” Cullen burst out. Evelyn was quiet.

“On the lips.”

“We are not--”

Isabela held up a finger to stop him. “A forfeit is a forfeit.”

Abelas, perhaps for the first time, seemed to frown. “That is correct,” he said. “We promised.”

“Do ancient elves kiss with tongue? We’re talking five gold, after all,” Isabela asked Abelas.

“Now hold on!” Cullen cried. 

“That I had not considered. What is the rate of exchange for a kiss?”

“You don’t have to actually consider this, Abelas,” Cullen grated, his voice tightly controlled.

Isabela watched them with sly eyes. “Come now, Commander. You are a man of honor, yes?”

Cullen grit his teeth. “There’s a difference between forfeit and-- and this! And--” He heard a bench move.

“It’s just a kiss,” Varric said, grinning openly. 

“That’s not the po--” A hand took his shoulder and turned him, Cullen felt Abelas’s lips lock on his. The table fell silent save for the screaming in Cullen’s head. He stared ahead, his mind shying away from the traitorous observation that Abelas had really soft lips for an ancient elf. 

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Evelyn muttered. 

Abelas pulled away and, in a way that shocked Cullen to the core, smiled at him. “We did make a promise,” Abelas said smoothly. “ _ Hasem i myathash.  _ Promises should be kept, don’t you think?”

“Andraste preserve me!” Cullen hissed, turning away. He reached for the alcohol as his cheeks burned and not from the alcohol. Abelas sat with thoughtful silence.

“Are we friends, now, Inquisitor?” Isabela asked, handing Evelyn back her pants and boots. 

“Yes.” Evelyn said, a little breathless as she took the bundle of clothes from Isabela. Cullen shot Evelyn a sullen glare, which she ignored with an air of innocence. “Yes. We are.”

“Good.”

 


End file.
